


Is That My Shirt?  (mini-Escape with Chris Evans)

by captainofherheart



Category: Chris Evans - Fandom
Genre: Chris Evans Fanfiction, Chris Evans x ofc, Chris Evans x reader, Escape with Chris Evans, F/M, chris evans fanfic - Freeform, chris evans fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 21:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13039377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainofherheart/pseuds/captainofherheart
Summary: Extra scene from Escape with Chris Evans, takes place in the future. A dinner date over Skype makes Chris aware he left something behind at Nicole's place





	Is That My Shirt?  (mini-Escape with Chris Evans)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a "mini-Escape." Essentially, these stories are quick snippets into the future for Chris and Nicole, they will be published out of sequence and focus on a particular moment.

After arriving home from work you saw that you had about 40 minutes left before your date with Chris.  You stopped to pick up your mail, then quickly climbed the stairs to the apartment,  kicked the door shut, and put the grocery bags on the kitchen table.  You removed your shoes, and hung your coat in the closet.  After turning up the thermostat just a little bit, you returned to the kitchen, grateful to be home and warm before the snow started.

Sorting out what you needed for tonight, you pulled out your grill pan and fired up the burner to begin heating it up.  From the fridge you pulled out the ziploc bag of chicken you had been marinating since this morning.

While your chicken breasts were cooking you washed and chopped up veggies for a large salad.  Some of it got portioned into containers for other meals this week, the rest went into a large bowl for tonight’s dinner.  Chicken grilled and juicy, you covered it in foil and set it on a plate to rest before making your way to the bathroom for a quick shower.

After towel drying your hair, you dressed for the evening in a soft oversized tee and a pair of comfy sweatpants with thick socks, then twisted your damp hair up into a large clip. Waking down the hall you smiled to yourself, happy that it was almost time to see Chris.  

You sliced the chicken into strips before tossing it with your salad and dressing, grabbed a glass of white wine, and sat in front of your laptop at the kitchen table.  Your foot tapped out a song impatiently on the floor, waiting for that handsome face to show up on skype.   

“You’re late,” you chastised, teasing your boyfriend when he finally came into view at 7:04 pm. 

“Sorry about that, honey. I told Dodger you were waiting, but he saw a squirrel and, well, you know what happens when he spots one of those.”  You could see the offender raising his head at the mention of his name from his spot on the sofa behind Chris. 

“That I do.  Still have the sore shoulder to prove it,” you said, automatically rubbing your left rotator cuff at the memory.  You’d volunteered to take Dodger for a walk last time you were in Boston. All was going great, until he spotted the little taunting twitchy tailed mother fucker and hauled ass after it.  He pulled the leash so hard you almost went down, but you managed to keep a hold of it and reign him back to you before he could run into the street.  God forbid he got loose, you’d never forgive yourself if something happened to that dog.  You weren’t sure if Chris would either. 

“He’s still very sorry about that by the way.  I tried to make him go to squirrel rehab, but he said ‘No, no, no,’”  Chris jokingly sang. 

“You’re such a dumbass,” you said rolling your eyes before smiling warmly at him.  You stroked the screen a bit near his cheek.  “But, you’re my dumbass.”

Chris smiled adorably through the screen, his eyes crinkling in the corners.  “And you’re a smartass who’s not getting rid of me anytime soon! So you better get used to it!  Now, onto more important matters...All ready for dinner?” he asked, rubbing his hands together before giving a little clap.  

“I am. Grilled chicken over salad tonight, right?”

“Survey says,”  he did a little drum roll on the table, “Give this woman a prize ‘cause she is correct!” he then began playfully singing game show music. “Hey Nikki, I’ll show you mine if you show yours.”  

Giggling at the flirtatious eyebrows you were seeing you said,  “On 3.  Ready? 1, 2...”

“Wait a sec! We show on 3? Or is it 1, 2, 3, then show?”

You put your head into your palm, shaking it as your elbow rested on the table.  After a theatrical sigh you clarified, “Let’s go with countdown in full, then show, okay?”

“Sounds good, let’s roll again.”

“Alright, so AFTER 3. Ready? 1, 2, 3, voila!” You both tilted your screens to bring your dinner plates into view for comparisons.  

“No fair!  Yours looks so much better than mine!  You got all colors and shit in there,” he said sulking in his chair.

“That’s because it was made with D’love, and not with D’livery.  I like it colorful.  You eat with your eyes first you know!”  taking a bite and doing a little happy dance in your seat when you got a piece of feta. Yum!

“Hello, by the way,” he said, eyes dancing in amusement at you. 

“Yo!” Was your reply as you lifted your chin his way, throwing him the peace sign with your fingers, before taking another mouthful. You heard him chuckle as he began eating, taking a few bites followed by a swig of his Sam Adams.  

After a few minutes of dinner in comfortable silence he asked, “Would you consider a career change?  I can hire you as my personal chef. It would mean we’d be together all the time,”  singing the last word.

“Hmm, tempting but you couldn’t afford me,” you told him, sounding serious but having to look away from the screen so he wouldn’t read your face.  He’d see just how badly you wanted to do just that. God, how you missed this meathead!  You composed yourself and turned back to your meal.  Until you realized you forgot an ingredient. 

“Nuts!” you suddenly yelled out, slamming your hands down on the tabletop before jumping out of your seat.

“What the hell!” A startled Chris let out as you were reaching the pantry to grab the walnuts you had bought to use in place of croutons.

While you were away from the table, cutting open the bag and giving them a quick run through with your knife, you heard Chris say, “Jesus woman, you nearly gave me a heart attack!  What are ya turning into part squirrel now? Get bit or something?”

Laughing, you were walking back to the table when he finally noticed what you were wearing. You watched as leaned forward for a better view, “Hey!  Is that my shirt?” 

“Nope,” you said, sitting down nonchalantly, tossing the chopped walnuts into your salad. 

“Nicole, I can see it.  It’s my Mickey Mouse tee from Disney World,” he said, before stabbing into his salad. 

“Correction. It WAS your Mickey Mouse tee until you left it here.  Finders keepers.”

Using his fork he pointed at you, trying to look stern, but not doing a very good job at it.  “I expect that to be neatly folded and waiting for me next time I see you.”

“Nope.  Not gonna happen.” You sing songed, before taking a sip of your wine. “It’s soft, it’s cozy, and now it’s mine!  You can get yourself another one next month when we go for Christmas.”

“I can’t get another one next month because THAT one is a special 50th Anniversary shirt!  They won’t be selling them when we go!” The man took Disney very seriously, and was gesturing wildly with his hands.

With a shrug of your shoulders you answered, “Eh, there’s always Ebay,” before taking another bite. You continued calmly chewing, even as you heard the clatter of the utensils he dropped against his plate in exasperation.  

“Nic.”

“Chris.”

“Nicole.”

“Christopher.”

“Nicole Olivia!”

“Christopher Robert!”

You glanced at him quickly with a small smirk as he sighed heavily in resignation. 

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know I am.  I love you too.”  

He had picked up his fork and was about to dig in again. You gave him a moment, then looked up and gave him a huge evil grin, while spearing another fork full. Before taking the bite you added, “But you’re still not getting your shirt back.”  

You smiled at the sound of cutlery dropping again.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This one was written for a prompt I received to use "Is that my shirt" in a story featuring Chris and Nicole from Escape with Chris Evans


End file.
